


You're not Samson, and I'm no Delilah

by pollitt



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Community: kissemdanno, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I am perfectly capable of sitting still when I don't have potentially deadly weapons being wielded by my neck by a guy who's fond of talking with his hands."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're not Samson, and I'm no Delilah

**Author's Note:**

> The germ of the idea for this story has been knocking around my head for a while. I'm glad the H5O muses finally claimed it.
> 
> Thanks to CatHeights and Data for their beta and encouragement.
> 
> Written as a part of the kissemdanno community.

A cool afternoon breeze comes in off of the ocean, stirring the grass and cooling the bare skin of Steve’s chest. He’s sitting backwards on a chair from his kitchen--which has currently been relocated to the warm grass of his back yard--with his shirt draped over the back, and behind him he can hear the metallic _snickt_ of metal blades separating.

“You don’t have a ‘sit and wait patiently’ mode, do you? Everything is either run! fast! jump! or ninja deathly still, isn’t it?” Danny asks, his free hand curling around Steve’s shoulder.

“I am perfectly capable of sitting still when potentially deadly weapons are being wielded by my neck by a guy who's fond of talking with his hands. You have done this before, right? How can I be sure you’re not going to cut off part of my ear? How do I know I won't end up looking like I let Grace and her friends use me as a Barbie Styling Head?” Steve tries to turn around but Danny’s hand is strong on his shoulder, holding him in place. He can hear Danny’s offended huff.

“First off, Barbie Styling Head? Please, _please_ tell me you did not buy that for her. Do you know how much it hurts to step on one of those little hair bows? And that hair will kill a vacuum quicker than anything I have ever encountered.”

“So it’s a good thing I kept the receipt?” Steve asks.

“Very. After I’m done here, we’re taking that back. Gracie can learn how to cut hair like kids having been doing since the dawn of time--in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror with a pair of safety scissors. Which brings me to my second point. While I didn’t go to beauty school, Steven, I have had some practice in the simple art of hair cutting. Growing up with a gaggle of sisters, Matty and me, and my dad pulling a firefighter’s salary, and then college and a cop's paycheck, yeah, none of that really allowed for regular salon visits. I’m not looking to make you runway worthy, babe, you just need a little off of the back here and then we’ll be done.”

Steve feels Danny’s fingers and the cool press of the scissor handles stroke across the back of his neck.

“You yourself were just complaining this morning, might I add, that you thought your hair was getting too long,” Danny continues.

Danny’s fingers move from the back of Steve’s neck, and Steve can feel Danny move, can hear the rustle of fabric and then Danny’s mouth is at the shell of Steve’s ear, his breath is warm. “I promise I won’t let anything bad happen--not injury nor a bad cut.”

Despite the warm temperature, goosebumps prickle along Steve’s arms, a cool shiver goes down his spine. He lowers his head, exhaling and leaving the nape of his neck even more exposed. “I trust you, babe.”

Danny laughs and presses a warm kiss over a knot of Steve’s spine.

“Excellent.”

The cut takes less time than Steve expected. Danny seems confident with a pair of scissors and they talk about their latest case, the Kings ’s upcoming game, and other trivial things. Every so often, Danny laughs and tells Steve to sit up straighter, and Steve realizes how relaxed he is.

“Okay, best part. I’ll be right back,” Danny says, and Steve doesn’t miss the extra layer of warmth that was added to Danny's voice. The goose flesh is back with a vengeance, and Steve has to ball his hands into fists to stop himself from standing up, turning around, and tackling his partner so he can have him any which way he chooses.

As he promised, Danny’s back quickly. “Look down,” he says, his fingers sliding into the back of Steve’s hair and pushing his head down gently.

Steve does as requested and a moment later he hears the electric whirr of clippers. He’s about to say something when he feels the metal touch the back of his neck and then it’s all he can do not to let out a moan. It’s as though each and every nerve ending on his entire body is hotwired to the few inches on the back of his neck and they’re thrumming with feeling.

“I knew you’d like this part.” Danny sounds like he’s far away. Steve can *hear* the smile in his voice.

“How did I... Did you...” Steve starts, but his higher brain functions are failing him as the clippers move slowly across his neck.

And then they’re gone and Steve might just whimper.

“Glutton.” A warm towel is placed on the back of Steve’s neck and he can feel Danny’s strong fingers pressing lightly into the muscle at the nape of his neck, can feel Danny’s hands and the towel wipe away the loose hairs.

“Danny,” Steve says, a little light-headed. He reaches back blindly, his head still lowered and feeling too heavy for his neck.

He finds purchase on what he’s guessing is the leg of Danny’s pants. He can feel Danny step closer a breath before he feels Danny’s lips brush across his neck again.

“You’re not going to get this in a barbershop,” Danny says, which makes Steve laugh.

“Only the ones that offer the ‘happy ending,’” Steve says, turning around. Danny’s smiling smugly, and Steve knows he’s waiting to hear Steve say he was right. And he’ll admit it. Later.

“So, Danno, now it’s my turn to do you.” He stands up.

“Babe, I thought you’d never ask.” Danny pulls off his t-shirt and takes Steve’s seat. “The scissors and clippers are on the table there. I like my towels extra hot, and watch what you take off the back, too much and I have a wicked cowlick."

Steve pulls him to the ground before he’s finished and they’re both laughing as they wrestle on in the cooling grass.


End file.
